Are You Sure I'm a Wizard?
by anerol152
Summary: Neville is a disappointment... Merlin he hates that word. But it's time for his birthday party and the not-so-lovely Ronald Weasley is coming over. Joy. (Written for Round 6 of the QLFC.)


**Chaser 2 of Pride of Portree;**

Write about a light character committing the sin of **sloth** or a dark character demonstrating the virtue of **diligence**.

 **Optional Prompts:** (dialogue) "I only came because I was told there was going to be cake.", (word) curfew, (word) risk

 **Word Count:** 1109 on Google Docs

 **A/N - Hopefully there's at least 2% of Sloth there -.-" :/  
Disclaimer: **I own nothing (pretend this thing was here in all my other fics)

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Neville had been called many things during his life. A Squib, a failure, _a disappointment_ , and a sloth were just some of them. He knew he was and _would_ stay many of those things, no matter how hard he tried in life.

He knew that no nine-year-old should think that, but how could he deny the truth? Yes, he had just turned nine, but what good had he done in those nine years? He was nothing but a short, plump and weak wizard that brought nothing but shame to his family. He was so weak that it took his Great-Uncle Algie _dropping him_ _from a window_ for him to finally show his magic. That was before they even knew he was a real wizard and not just a no good Squib.

It wasn't the first time his family had put him in a life-threatening situation in the hope that his magic would make an appearance. He had almost _drowned_ when they dropped him off the Blackpool pier. It was possibly one of the scariest moments of his life, not including the incident with his uncle last summer. He remembered flailing his arms around in an attempt to stay above the water and the desperation that came when he failed. He was sure he would die that day. And yet, he did not.

They had pulled him out of the water after what felt like a small eternity. He still wished that he had died that day. It would have saved him from all the frustrated looks his family gave him. Later, when they got home, his grandmother, for what felt like the thousandth time, had told him just how disappointed his parents would have been had they still been with them. _Disappointed._ He hated that word. He was honestly sick of hearing it _over and over._

That was the reason he planned to spend his birthday in his room once all the guests had left and his party was over. He knew that spending the day locked up in his room and not doing anything would only help to prove to his family just how much of a sloth he was, but he didn't care. It seemed like fate cared about his wishes just as much as he cared about his family's opinion of him.

The party seemed to go on and on with no signs of stopping. Which was to be expected. His family might have been 'light' but they were still purebloods. And there was nothing that mattered more to his grandmother than tradition. It was well into the night by the time the party finished. But still, he put on his fakest smile and bid the guests goodbye like a perfect little pureblood heir.

Just when he thought the worst was over, his gran told him that the youngest Weasley boy would be sleeping over for the weekend to help him form connections; in other words, to teach him a thing or two about how a Gryffindor should behave. There was only one thing he hated more than the word 'disappointed', and it was Ronald Weasley.

It had nothing to do with the Weasleys being piss poor and not following most pureblood traditions. In the words of his gran, "The Weasleys might not be the richest of families, but they are still light purebloods, and that makes them good enough for this family. Not to mention that communication on a weekly basis with people so deep in Dumbledore's pocket makes us good enough for him to finally leave my family alone." He, for once, shared the opinion of his grandmother. But Ron was an exception.

He knew very well that pretty much everyone saw him as a failure and thought he was about as useful as a Squib, but other purebloods were at least decent enough to say such things behind his back. Ronald Weasley was _not_. Heck, even Malfoy Jr.—who _still_ sneers every time he sees him—never said a thing. But not Ronald. He teased, pulled pranks on him and just acted like a bully. If that was how a Gryffindor behaved, he wasn't sure he wanted to be one.

And now, he had to spend the next two days constantly around the boy. As if he hadn't ruined his birthday enough already. Yes, Ronald had already made this day even more miserable than it should have been.

While everyone else first greeted him and wished him a happy birthday, Ronald had just looked at him and said, "I only came because I was told there was going to be cake." Then he'd proceeded to stuff his mouth with the aforementioned cake. All three of them. Neville was honestly surprised there had been any cake left for the rest of the guests.

And hadn't that been an absolutely _lovely_ start of the evening? _Not._

And that was how he got stuck sharing a room with the 'Snore Monster'. "It's only so he doesn't feel left out or overwhelmed considering his situation." That was the only explanation he got before his gran ordered the elves to add another bed to his room and left him to wallow in his own misery.

He closed his eyes again and tried to focus on sleeping through the torture. He tried and tried but finally gave up on sleep altogether. He decided to take a risk and sneak out of his room for a midnight stroll. He knew it was forbidden, since his curfew had passed hours ago, but Merlin help him if he had to stay in the same room as that idiot for a second longer.

He was still feeling drained from everything that had happened earlier that evening but he couldn't just stay lying in his bed. It usually gave him a feeling of security, but Ronald's presence was making it unbearable. How had the boy managed to make the only place he felt secure the place he most wanted to escape? He slowly got out of the bed so as to not wake his _guest_.

Once he was in the hallway, he started thinking about where he should go. He knew he should be extra careful since he was breaking his curfew.

He thought about going to the kitchen and looking for some leftover cake—finding some would be a miracle, since Ronald had eaten almost all of it—to throw on Ron's stupid sleeping face so he would get the cake he cared so much about.

But he wouldn't do that. Who knew what Gran would do to him if he did? He decided to just take a walk through the gardens and hope Ron would have stopped snoring by the time he returned.


End file.
